THE DUST IS DEEPER YELLOW TODAY
1563 4D
Hunger woke Jeddin from a light doze. Ahead of the van, the Engrammatic sign emerged from behind a late-afternoon grove of trees. The flashing sign read, ENGRAMMATIC. DEPROGRAM. REPROGRAM. DRINK, THINK. TANK YOUR BRAIN, DRAIN YOUR TANK.
A knot of people stood outside the front door to the inn. Four powerfully-built andro men surrounded two andro women. A male voice anjived some jagged phrases Jeddin heard easily: “You two get away from here. Right now. We know what you’re carrying and we don’t want it here.”
The two andro women made a few half-hearted attempts to speak, but finally turned away and started to walk up the road away from Jeddin. Young and beautiful, they wore what seemed to be nothing more than a collection of carefully-wound rags.
As the other andros from the van jostled to get into Engrammatic and the food, Jeddin asked one of the four men, “What was that all about?”
“They’re carrying predators. And they’re not andros. They’re human.” The man shifted his weight sideways, slowly as if he were a piece of heavy machinery. His skin bore an undertone of tan.
“What do you mean, predators?”
“Eaters. They—“
“You mean aliens? They eat andros?”
“I don’t know about aliens. I’ve only seen this kind of thing once before, the other guys once or twice. That’s why Engrammatic hired us, just for safety.”
“What kind of thing?”
“They hide in innerspace. When they think they can get a free meal, they take us. Right there.”
“But those were just women, weren’t they?” Jeddin remembered Sarr.
“No. Each one had one, so out they go. If we catch them in the act, we can kill them. We’ve got CIB dispensation – all we have to do is call in afterward.” The man turned and followed the others into Engrammatic. Jeddin looked after the two women until they disappeared, both limping slightly, around a bend in the road. His stomach signaled him, and he went inside to get some dinner.
As Jeddin entered the dining room, a tall, pale-haired woman greeted him from a seat nearby. “You’re Grendel‘s buddy, right? With the knife game? I’m Cortevail. I came in on the van with you.” A plate of mixed greens and tubers sat in front of her.
“Yes. You were in the back by those two who were coughing. How do you know Grendel? Is he around?” Jeddin sat down in the chair opposite her.
“He’s in the City right now. We’re… we’ve done some business. And we’re friends.” Cortevail took a huge mouthful of the tubers and studied Jeddin‘s eyes.
“The dust is deeper yellow today,” Jeddin dug the passwords from his memory and locked eyes with her. Maybe she was one of those few andros who weren’t asleep to everything, like Grendel.
“And maybe it’ll turn to gold,” Cortevail mumbled, countersigning. She swallowed her mouthful, and took some more. “We’re going to need help very soon, all the help we can get. They’re going to jump tonight. Down in Sobi, of all places. Nice try, by the way, with the others on the bus. They’ll never listen.”
“Sobi Zone? He’s down there?” Jeddin tensed. What would Grendel be doing in the City‘s holes?
“Yes, a friend of mine saw him when he arrived there with his woman. They had a man, a human, with them, and a little girl. I was surprised by the whole thing.”
“What’re you having, Trickster?” A waiter looked down at Jeddin. “We’ve got several specials — looks like you could use some filling in.” He poked Jeddin‘s shoulder in appraisal.
Jeddin eyed Cortevail‘s plate. “That stuff looks good. How about a double load?”
“Good choice. And… I’m Weredin. I’ve got my own special, just for you. Do you think…?” Raising his eyebrows a little, the waiter laid his hand lightly on Jeddin‘s shoulder.
Jeddin smiled, and put his hand on the other’s. “I’ll be back this way, if my power stays on. Let’s talk about it then. All right? I’ll have a Black Flag with that, too.” He withdrew his hand.
As Jeddin watched the waiter move away in a fluid stride with his hips undulating slightly, Cortevail tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. “Getting distract—“
“Did your friend see whether the man with them had a patchwork scar all over him?” Jeddin interrrupted, turning back to her.
“Well, yes, maybe, but how did you—“
“Grendel and Ezzar, that’s his woman—“
“Yeah, I know her—" Cortevail nodded.
“The guy with the scars? The corpos burned his farm, cut him up and left him for dead.”
“Cut him up? Why? That’s for when they want information.” Cortevail looked interested.
“Yeah, I know. And when I saw him here, he was looking for his son. He doesn’t know anything about our stuff.” Jeddin paused, thinking of the datacard.
A man in a brown coverall, a human, slight in build, dark in hair, eyes, and skin, arrived at their table and sat down between them. The man’s eyes appraised Jeddin.
Cortevail said, “Jeddin, we need to get a message to Naga Zone.” She put a hand on the man’s arm. “This is Turion. He’d do it but he’s needed out here. Turion, this is Jeddin. He’s a friend of Grendel‘s.”
“Han.” The man bent a corner of his mouth up, with effort, and nodded slightly to Jeddin without moving his eyes from Jeddin‘s throat.
“You’re telling him too much,” Turion said.
“I’ve cleared him,” Cortevail said. The look she gave Jeddin just then flashed warmth; he tried not to smile back. “I’d like him to take the wordlist in.” She looked straight in Jeddin‘s eyes. “Would you take a biocrypt into Naga for us? We’ll pay well.”
Jeddin looked down at his hands. A biocrypt was a genetic-coded series of true-random values, called the wordlist, locked up in a set of cells designed to emit a superlong strand of protein. A special transcription tool triggered and protected the emission process. Matched with a corresponding strand from a message biocrypted from an inverse wordlist, the codes of the combined strands, accurately registered, revealed the plaintext of the message. This encryption method was applied only to the most secret large-volume information. “What’s the big deal?”
“You don’t need to know that,” Turion burst out. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m taking a big risk,” Jeddin said. “If they catch me with the implant, I’m dead.” He shifted uncomfortably. The implant, about the size of a fingertip and needing good temperature management to restrict gene-code losses, usually rode along with the bearer’s own critical gene codes, in his scrotum.
“These are just masks, keys, for actual messages,” Cortevail explained, and Turion relaxed. “They don’t have any content. They’re to be held and used when needed later. Well? It’s four thousand in pay: two now and two later.”
Jeddin said, “Let me think for a minute.” The other two watched him. The waiter arrived with a smile and a plate overflowing with greens and tubers, cut into small chunks and seasoned with a wide spectrum of herbs and lignins. Jeddin eyed the food greedily; his stomach was empty.
Turion stood up, said, “I’ve got work to do. The car is in back. I don’t think Rion will be pleased.” Cortevail winced; Jeddin watched the pain shade from her face down into the muscles of her neck. Turion passed her a small card and left.
Jeddin dug in. He had noticed that the two women had headed toward the City. His path would take him past them.
“I’ll do it,” he said, his mouth almost full. “When do you need the biocrypt there? And where do I go in the Zone?”
As he ate, Cortevail explained to him.
